


Marshmallows

by pixiePique



Category: Homestuck
Genre: And Then Really Really Cute, And Then Super Sexy, Because of Reasons, Cussing, Eventual Smut, Help, I Was Drunk When I Wrote This, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, It's Going To Get Super Depressing, M/M, Oh My God, Shit's Going To Be Fluffier Than Marshmallows, What Was I Thinking?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixiePique/pseuds/pixiePique
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat is an unhappy cashier, and John has a craving for marshmallows. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Karkat: be crabby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don't like johnkat, go away

        "Congratulations on having the muscle capacity to lift eight bags of marshmallows. Too bad eating them won't change how stupid you are."  
        Your name is Karkat Vantas, and it has been a long day.  
        You spent most of it thinking back to high school, the best four years of your life. Not that that's saying much. High school fucking sucked. It's just marginally less crappy than the rest of the shitstain you call your life. A life spent in equal parts at your terrible job and home... alone.  
        You hate your life in general, but mostly you hate it because it's always monotonous as fuck. Everything is uninteresting, when it's not vaguely annoying or extremely irritating. You spend all your time at work wishing you were home, but when you get there you wish you were back at work. Well, not really. But you do wish you had somebody there to ease the constant monotony.  
        The only thing you hate more than your life is yourself.  
        This is because the horrible whirlwind of what-the-fuckery you call your life is entirely your own fault. Through screaming, ignoring, and generally being a giant dickwad, you have managed to alienate every friend you've ever had. Sure, they were ignorant nookwhiffing assholes, but they were ignorant nookwhiffing assholes that were willing to put up with your shit. That's a nice quality to have in a friend.  
        At least in high school, you had friends. You had a future. You had...  
        You had the wherewithal to focus on getting this asshole and their fluffy nuggets of compacted diabetes out of your workplace.  
        "That will be eleven dollars and forty-"  
        "Karkat?"  
        Oh, shit.  
        You finally look up from the pile of sugary death-pods you've been bagging and regard your customer. He sports a blue sweater with a hood so long it would trail on the floor were it not for the slight, improbable draft gently holding it aloft. A few inches above his dorky, bucktoothed grin sit the thickest pair of glasses you've ever seen, shielding eyes you would recognize anywhere. They are blue, sparkly, and sitting in the face of  
        "John Egbert."  
        You remember this asshole. He is, in fact, impossible to forget.  
        For four years, this kid sat beside you in every class. You helped him prank your cooking class teacher. He helped you rescue the live frogs from the biology lab. You covered both of your geometry textbooks in countless games of hangman and tic-tac-toe. You even shared a music stand in the back of the viola section because you were both too busy watching endless Friends reruns together to practice.  
        There is no denying it. Your old moirail has just blown back into your life on a cool, marshmallow-scented breeze.  
        And holy shit, you're wearing a smock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe there will be more, maybe there won't.  
> Even I don't know for sure.


	2. Karkat: be the other guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I guess there's more.

        "If I don't get some marshmallows into my stomach right now, I think I might explode!"  
        Your name is John Egbert, and you are soooooooo hungry.  
        Your moirail, Vriska, has many great qualities- a cool sense of humor and a knack for throwing parties among them. Unfortunately, the long list does not include the foresight to buy Stay Puffs for her pale bff.  
        And since you're the only one sober enough to operate a motor vehicle, guess who's going to the store?  
        When you finally get there, you are just drunk enough to think that buying eight bags of marshmallows and nothing else for dinner is a great idea.  
        Oh, who are you kidding? You would have done the exact same thing if you were sober.  
        You really love marshmallows.  
        You really don't know why. Normally, you hate anything and everything sweet. But you just can't forget all the times you ate them with your friends.           You mean, the people that used to be your friends. You're a bit lonely now. But whatever! Eventually your friends moved on, but you still have Vriska! And your memories. You and your best buddies, giggling like idiots and trying to sing the Ghostbusters theme song through mouthfuls of sticky sugar.  
        No matter how many vile concoctions the batterwitch creates, you don't think she could ever ruin marshmallows.  
        You wait for the cashier to ring you up, and start rifling through your wallet in search of-  
        Oh my gosh!  
        You look up and catch a glimpse of gray skin, a crabby expression, and two horns that look like candy corn sticking out of unruly dark hair.  
        "Karkat?"  
        When his expression turns from disgruntled to horrified, you know it's him. Your best friend from high school, the one who knew your favorite foods and your darkest secrets. The one who put up with your shitty Nic Cage movies, and made you put up with his equally shitty romcoms. Your best ally, your dance partner. Your platonic soul mate.  
        And oh wow, he looks so cute in his smock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formatting is a BITCH.


	3. John: be the crabby guy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beta hyperventilated and died when he saw this, so I'm going to go ahead and assume that it's okay-ish enough to publish.

From the way Egbert is clinging to your torso like a koala with abandonment issues, you assume he hasn't noticed the cheap smock equipping your body with enough static electricity to power a small train.  
Seriously, it's a wonder he's not slipping off.  
You mean, either he hasn't noticed, or he thinks it's cute.  
No. Gog no. Not even John could be that clueless.  
"Oh, Karkat! It's so good to see you! You look so cute in that smock!"  
Gog dammit John.  
"Egbert, I swear to Gog if you don't get the fuck off me right fucking now I am going to shove your nooksniffing face into your gigantic pile of sugary pieces of shit and hold it there until you are no longer breathing."  
Your arms tighten around him anyway.  
Fucking traitors.  
"Aw, it's good to see you too, Karkitten."  
He knows you far too well.  
Wait, what did he just call you?  
You don't want to stop hugging, but this is unacceptable. You push him away. "I told you a million times not to fucking call me that."  
"Old habits die hard." He smiles sheepishly, rubbing his neck.  
There's an awkward pause, each of you staring into the other's eyes. After you look away, you both pretend that you weren't remembering a happier time. You are not lonely. Fuck loneliness. Fuck it and the decrepit horse it rode in on.  
You hand him his bags and his change. "Well, it was nice seeing you again." You wait with a heavy heart for him to walk out of your life again, this time for good.  
His face darkens and changes into something that almost resembles a glare, which is terrifying, because that's the most serious John can get his face to be.  
Seriously, it's like the man is hardwired for smiling.  
But right now, he isn't smiling.  
He's glaring.  
At you.  
"You are not walking away again, Karkat. Not this time."  
"Egbert, wha-"  
"And I am not walking away from you. I know where you work now. So unless you want me to stalk you here, you are going to pick up the phone, you are going to answer my pesterchum messages, and you are going to Stay. In. Fucking. Touch. Like we promised. You got it?"  
"Oh my god, Egbert. Don't cuss. It sounds so wrong-"  
"You got it?"  
"I got it, I got it! Jegus fuck."  
"Good."  
His face immediately bounces back to the huge smile that you're sure is his default expression. It's so cute, and you've missed it so much. It makes you want to throw up. Or just hug him again.  
You can't hug him again, because the giant pile of marshmallows is now standing in your way. Fucking assholes.  
But John was never one to let candy get in his way. He completes your train of thought and hug-tackles you, throwing both caution and the marshmallows to the wind.  
With your face pressed into his shoulder (fuck you're short), you kind of never want to move again. This is both the happiest and most squished you've ever felt in your life. Now you remember why you never liked having a lot of friends.Too many fucking emotions.  
You think of something witty and profound you could say about your situation. Something along the lines of "Well, fuck it".  
Yeah. That's good.  
Using your newly written excuse, you wrap your arms around him and squeeze, causing John to become very excited. It's not often that someone gets an emotional response out of you. This forces his tiny Egbert brain to respond in the only way it knows.  
With enthusiasm.  
Basically, he picks you up and spins you around.  
When you finally stop hugging, you take a minute to survey the damage. You now have two new bruises on your shin (as if you weren't clumsy enough already) and there is a broken charity jar on the floor.  
But the marshmallows are okay, thank fucking god.  
Fuckers.  
Your train of thought hits a penny on the tracks when you see John's face. It's his "I'm up to something mischievous" face. You can practically hear his prankster's gambit rising.  
This is not good.  
"Egbert, I know that fucking face. What are you planning?"  
"Huh? Nothing! No plans here! Just sincerity and seriousness!"  
He quickly tries to hide his smile, but you can still see it there- lurking with the promise of a future of pranks and sneakiness.  
You fucking hate that face.  
"Hey Karkat?"  
You look at him with apprehension. His expression holds no trace of slyness or mischief. All you can see is... sweet sincerity.  
Fucking hell.  
"Do you want to come over tonight?"  
Hell no, you don't want to come over tonight! You're busy.  
Being alone.  
You think about coming over.  
"I mean, I just have all these marshmallows now, and I was just hoping you would watch Ghostbusters with me again, like we used to, or maybe we could watch a romcom, or something, because I can't eat all of these by myself and-"  
"Egbert, shut the fuck up for a second."  
You look at his big puppy eyes.  
You never could say no to those fucking things.  
"I'll come over, alright? Just let me take this fucking thing off."  
You throw your smock to the wind and abscond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my wonderful beta Kanon-  
> For refusing to edit because "if my only complaint is that there isn't enough of what's there, you must be doing something right"  
> <3 you K!


	4. John and Karkat: watch shitty movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie bros, now with extra snugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the WORST.  
> Please don't hate me.  
> Trying not to fail classes takes time.  
> Regular updates now, I promise.

You have no idea how you ended up in this situation.  
You are curled up on a ridiculously small couch with your old (new?) moirail, and it's okay.  
Actually, it's more than okay.  
With your head leaned against his shoulder (Seriously, how tall are you? Five-six? This is ridiculous), you can feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt. You can hear his heartbeat, and how it speeds up whenever you move. You know it's because he's afraid of you leaving him again, and this makes you feel awful. You want to cuddle even closer, but you can't. You're already at maximum closeness. If you were any closer right now, you'd be Siamese twins or having sex.  
One of these situations is not unappealing to you.  
You decide not to think about which one.  
Instead, you look at John. It's easy to tear your eyes away from the movie, because you lost the coin toss and are now being forced to watch Ghostbusters for the millionth time.   
At least it's not Con Air.  
John doesn't notice you looking at him, his eyes being otherwise engaged. As he stares with rapt attention at the shitty movie, you gaze at his eyes. John has this horrible habit of getting way too into movies. He usually end up considering the characters his best friends, placing their problems at a higher priority than his own, and yelling at the screen.  
A lot.  
But when you look at his eyes, you decide to classify this less as a horrible habit and more as a gift. You can tell by the super-powerful, all-consuming happiness raging on his face that in the end, all the anxiety and despair is totally worth it.  
"Karkat?"  
Once again, you've allowed your internal Dave Strider to monologue you into the murky depths of humiliation, completely missing the fact that John had noticed you staring at him like a lovestruck maiden instead of paying attention to this god-awful excuse for a movie.  
"Is there something you'd like to share with the group?" John asks with a shit-eating grin.  
Before the Karkat that is actually capable of rational thought can think of something witty to say, you kiss him.  
Right on the fucking mouth.  
You idiot.  
As it slowly dawns on you what you've just done, you splutter and babble incoherently, trying to fix it.  
John, for perhaps the first time ever, is speechless, ghostly white in the glow of the TV, mouth hanging open and blue eyes wide.  
Your face has taken it upon itself to invent a new and brighter shade of scarlet for the sole purpose of making you look like a flushed dork.  
Wow, you should not have used the word flushed. Your face now resembles the nose of Rudolph.  
Your brain clears and you quickly attempt to apologize, but what actually comes out is-  
"You taste like marshmallows."  
John stares at you in shock.  
And then he doubles over laughing.  
You are the most idiotic, socially awkward, terrible excuse for a troll in all of-  
And then nothing matters, because John is kissing you again.  
He really does taste like marshmallows, all sweet and soft and sucking gently on your lower lip and running his hands through your hair, slipping one under your shirt...  
You decide to turn your brain off for a while.  
You have to take advantage of this rare and wonderful opportunity.  
After all, it may be the first and only time anyone's ever distracted him from Ghostbusters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the abandonment.  
> Porn in next chapter to make up for it.


	5. Karkat: have the sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gay nerds doing the do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said regular updates? I lied to you. I'm so sorry.   
> Youreyestheyglow made me feel guilty enough to do this, and it is my first time writing porn, so if you hate it blame her. Also, go read her fics because they are the most amazing ever.

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and you are having a heart attack.  
It's a good thing that sex apparently makes both you and John all flustered and blushy anyway, because you're fairly certain he won't be able to detect your utter panic.  
The glow of the movie helps, too.  
"Are you sure you're cool with us, you know..." John gasps, staring at you apprehensively. He glances at the TV, obviously trying to figure out how to put it. "Crossing the beams?"  
"I was totally cool with it until you said that, and now I'm thinking I should just leave and never come back."  
John goes a shade of red so bright that, paired with his white flash of a sheepish grin and sparkling blue eyes, he looks like a stupid, dorky American flag.   
One with a boner.  
And a hand drawing perilously close to your bulge.  
And a tongue absentmindedly running over his lips, leaving them wet and glistening.  
And.  
Christ, what were you thinking about?  
Shit, right, sex. With John. Focus, Karkat, jesus.  
As the stay puff man wrecks new York in the background, John's face is pulled to yours as if by a magnet, his eyes sliding shut as his mouth parts in anticipation. His breathing is heavy, and for a second you're worried about his asthma, but then you realize that he isn't the only one who sounds like he's trying to inflate a life raft. You make an effort to calm yourself down, but you fail miserably, your breath gaining a faint wheeze as it picks up speed when you think about the very fact that you can't calm yourself down, and then you sound as if you've just run a marathon while being chased by wild hoofbeasts when you start yelling at yourself because you failed to calm down after telling yourself to calm down. John's perfect, plump lips moving toward you does not help ease your panic in the slightest. Which reminds you, you seriously need to shut your shit and just Kiss the Boy. Oh my god, what if something disastrous happens like eels tipping over your boat? Wait, you're on a couch. In John's living room. Oh crap on a cracker, JOHN. Karkat, FOCUS.   
"Karkat, are you okay? You're breathing a little hard... "  
Oh no, John looks concerned. Did you do something weird? Of course you did. You awkward fuck.   
"Karkat, why are you just staring at me? Do you need to go to the hospital?"  
Oh, shit. Quick, say something stupid. He'll think it's endearing.   
"I wasn't comparing our current situation to The Little Mermaid." you manage to blurt out.   
John's concern turns into his usual toothy grin.   
"Awwww! C'mere, you dork."  
He starts leaning in again, and you take a steeling breath and press your lips to his. You'd think it would be weird to kiss an ex-moirail, but you'd be wrong, because this like marshmallow-flavored heaven. You can't tell whether the "magic in your veins" (Charlie XCX knows what life's about) is the pure adrenaline from making out with this beautiful idiot or the sugar from the damn death bombs of bleached sucrose, but whatever it is sending fire through your blood, which is now pooling in certain areas that, for their own protection, would prefer to remain nameless. John's lips are soft and warm against yours, your breath mingling and oh jesus on a motorcycle is that his tongue and your eyes are closing and you're tasting the inside of his mouth and it tastes sweet and like home and all that sappy shit and John breaks away no why is he doing that-  
Oh. He's taking off his shirt. And looking at you. Oh, no, are you supposed to take off your shirt? What if it gets stuck and it's embarrassing or what if you get cold or goosebumps-  
John's mouth is on your neck, breathing softly and mouthing at your collarbone and oh yes that's nice and his hands are so warm and distracting, running up your thighs and over your hips, pushing your shirt up so you can feel every ridge in his fingers on your stomach, and he sucks on your throat at the same time as he brushes your nipple and you shiver, a small sound coming out of your mouth before you can stop it. John just pulls his mouth up to your face to smile sweetly at you and kiss you gently before nudging your arms up and pulling your shirt off completely. He stares at you, and you start to feel a little awkward.   
"What the hell are you looking at, you grubfucking idiot?" you snarl to hide your anxiety. It doesn't work.   
John looks at you, his eyes wide and a deeper blue than you've ever seen them. "You're so beautiful," he breathes.   
You look down, feeling a sudden ache in your chest. "Oh," you whisper.   
Suddenly his hands are on your face and he is kissing you hard, biting your lips and sucking on your tongue until you are moaning, your hands roaming all over his pale, faintly muscled chest. His hands travel down your neck and press into your chest, lowering you to the ground where he straddles you. He stops kissing you to push back your hair and look into your eyes.   
"Are you sure you wanna do this?"  
You answer him by shutting him up, occupying his mouth with yours and pressing your palms into his soft, pliant ass so that his erection rubs your bulge, causing both of you to moan into the other's mouth. His hands fly into your hair, rubbing your horns and making you gasp for breath. The two of you are grinding against one another like tomorrow is not a thing that exists, sending sparks flying through your brain and turning your vision white.   
John sits up and begins fumbling at your belt buckle.   
"Pants. Off. Now." he gasps.   
You push his hands away and both of you hurriedly shove your pants down to your ankles, taking your underpants with them. You notice that his boxers have gushers on them. You are equally disgusted and charmed. Why do you even like this nookscratcher?   
Then John's nose is pressed against yours as his hand finds your bulge, and you remember exactly why. He strokes you gently up and down and you find the only thing you can do is murmur his name, over and over, against his mouth. "John, John, John, John..." into his perfect lips. Somehow your hand finds its way to his weird human stick thing and starts smearing his strange genetic material over it. He moans loudly and follows your lead. "Karkat, Karkat, oh, yes, just like that-"   
You pull your hand away, eyes half-shut. You look at him, your hands splayed on his stomach. "Will you... Do you want to fuck me?" you ask nervously.  
His eyes widen and his mouth drops, nodding his head frantically. "Yeah- of course! I didn't think- oh my gosh, yes!" He grins and kisses you, shifting his hips closer to your dripping nook. The tip of his (what the hell is it called? Oh, fuck it) thing nudges your slick entrance, and you groan, bucking your hips and clutching at John's strong shoulders. He chuckles, but quickly loses his breath when you grind your slippery heat down onto him. He begins to push in, causing you to cry out when his thick (Cock! That's what it's called. You remember because Strider always used to tell you to suck his- ew, no, bad time to think about Dave) cock hits every one of your ridges. Once he's fully sheathed, John takes a second to catch his breath.  
"K-karkat, are you okay if I m-move?" he spits out through his arousal.   
"Y-y- oh- yes, move, please John-" you splutter.   
He groans into your shoulder as he pulls back and then thrusts into you slowly. Your claws dig into his back as an embarrassingly loud noise tears out of your throat. As he moves in and out of your tight heat, you find yourself spewing gooey nonsense at ridiculous speeds, telling him how perfect he is and how good he feels inside you and how you want to make him come, come inside you so you can feel it, how you want to be his, body and soul, how you want him to tie you up and make you his, how glad you are that you found him, that he let you kiss him, how grateful you are that he's fucking you, and always peppered with his name- "John, John, so beautiful, so perfect-oh yes, right there- ah- John-" and you can feel him moaning into your neck as you pull his hair, whispering your name over and over, nothing else just "Karkat, Karkat, oh yes, Karkat-" until suddenly his breath hitches and his hips shudder to a halt and you can feel him releasing inside you in a hot burst and that's all it takes, you're gone, you're seeing white and your genetic material is soaking the carpet but you don't even have the mental capacity to wish you'd prepared a bucket because all you can think of is John, John, John...   
You open yours eyes what could have been minutes or hours later and feel John pulling out of you with a slick sound. You share a gentle kiss as you both sit up, clinging to each other in sleepy contentment. You realize the ground is very wet and look down in sudden horror to see that you've stained at least a third of his carpet bright red. That will never, ever come out.   
"FUCK! John, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"  
He shuts you up with a kiss. "Karkat, it's okay. That carpet needed replacing anyway. I've actually been meaning to do it. So thank you for reminding me." he smiles wryly at you. "Come sleep in my bed?"  
You smile sheepishly. "Can we cuddle?"  
John rolls his eyes. "Obviously. And to think, you thought I was the grubfucking idiot in this relationship."  
Your mouth drops. "Relationship?" you squeak. Your voice must have raised ten octaves.   
He grins. "If you want."  
You kiss him. "I want."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These idiots are ruining my existence


End file.
